Originally Posted by Iowanian
I've been on the road and working alot, left at 5am yesterday and had a 14hr day on the road. Tax season, work loads, lots of stress have dominated things around here lately.
This morning, I got up at 4:30 and headed out in the rain for opening morning of turkey season. Memories of last year and being unable to get within 50-75 yards of a live bird were fresh in my mind.
I went with a buddy who guided hunts for several years, to try to learn a better way to do things. A couple of nights ago I'd taken him to my farm, scouted the birds, told him where I thought they'd be, and a couple of owl hoots confirmed it with gobbles of treeing birds.
This morning, we headed out into the rain, nearly got stuck and walked into the darkness to set up on the inside corner of a hay field next to a timber with a corn field a quarter mile the other side of my field.
Gray sky of first light brought a stop to the rain and a beginning to the first gobbles and hen clucks from the trees. Sound indicated 3 gobblers within 200 yards with hens between. My friend worked his magic, engaging the gobblers in conversation, simulating flight to the ground and the yelps of an amorous hen. 2 gobblers answer and as the sun peeks over the horizon, they leave the trees. My anticipation grows even as they fly behind us to a neighboring farm. Thick brush and a hedge row separate us, but I have confidence....another tom sounds like he's coming from the timber.....and the tom behind us is with a hen.
The slightest sound of brush crackling behind us locks us from movement, and then I hear the elusive sound I've been told about but never have heard.....the drum of a horny Tom.
They circle behind as I adjust my location to face the decoy in the field and the direction I think they'll approach.....and I see the hen. She's working through the sounds, and approaches the decoy hen....and the patriotic brightly colored red-white and blue head of the Gobbler appears from the brush. He struts into the open like he thinks he's Floyd Mayweather. He circles the hen in the dance of love, fanning, puffing, drumming...working his hen and the decoy as if he was trying to work a 3-way for breakfast.
I watch the display for 2-3 minutes as close as 15 yards before I take aim and claim my prize.
This wasn't the biggest bird I've ever taken, the beard was broken off but this was without a doubt my favorite turkey hunt ever.
Tomorrow, I'll be taking my friend to another farm, to see how well I do at finding a bird for him, and maybe learn a trick or two about big timber turkeys.
Mornings like this one are why men hunt.
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